A Day In the Life
by Akuma Sephitaro
Summary: The next BAM tourney... This is how Strike sees it...


A Day in the Life  
  
Disclaimers: The BAG people aren't mine... *cries* Although any new chars are mine... Including Psych, so don't even think of taking him!  
  
All written out of boredom...  
  
____________________  
  
The rain still bothered Strike. He wasn't too fond of the little water droplets, but he just had to live with them. He walked down the sidewalk, he was alone. Everyone else was smart and stayed home. But Strike had things to do like sign up for the next Bust A Groove contest. Ok, so that wasn't really THAT important, but he wanted to beat Heat so much, it hurt.  
  
He walks into the Enix company building. They were holding the tournament this year, and also said they would improve this years contest. The only improvement for Strike would be Heat losing, but it seemed impossible after all he's see from one of his best friends. Heck, he wouldn't be surprised if Heat was there in that building already... Strike walks up to the main desk to sign up, and get himself hotel rooms from the ones they've reserved for the competition. After signing up, and getting warm hellos from his fans that were there, he went into the dance room.  
  
Sure enough, Heat was there, along with a few new people. "Hola, Heat sup man?" Strike says as he walks over to Heat, who is watching the new guys dance. "Nothing much, just seeing how I won't get beat this year..." "Heat, shuddup, you don't know if you'll win... maybe one of them will..." "Wanna bet?" "I have no money with me... sorry" Strike says. Strike looks up at the new guys. One of them looked kinda like Heat... Strike knew him too, Psych, Heat's cousin. The only noticeable difference between the two was Psych's multiple piercings and long hair in a crazy anime fashion, and also the fact that he was only 18. The other one, Strike didn't know. He had green spiked hair, and was wearing a yellow shirt with black baggy pants. "Who's the green haired dude?" Strike asks Heat. "Calls himself Wanderer, guess he is... Said he had no true home" "Odd..."  
  
"HEY STRIKE!!!"  
  
Strike turns around to see Shorty and Columbo. "Hey! Nice to see you two again..." He says and waves. "Yeah, same here" Shorty says. Shorty was wearing almost the same thing she did last year, her "Too Much Black" outfit as Strike called it. Shorty ran over to Strike and hugged him. "Hey now, don't go killin me before I can compete" Strike says, jokingly. "Oh don't you worry... I get ya during the competition!" Shorty says back to him.  
  
Strike looks up to see Gas-O walk in. "Wasn't he in jail?" Strike says to no one. "He was... Guess him and Bi-O are friendly now..." Heat says. "Never fear, the gas man is here!" Gas-O says, walking over to the other dancers. "Hiya Gas-O!" Shorty says. "Hey Short one" Gas-O says. "HEY!" Shorty yells at him, while everyone laughs. "So, are we going to have good competition this year?" Heat asks everyone in the room. "What's you definition of good? Geez Heat, you know I'll kick you ass this year!!" Psych says, walking up behind Heat. "If you say so..." Heat says.  
  
Five people were in the room, just chilling until they either got kicked out, or the "Party" was over. Strike saw that there was still no way in hell Heat would get beat... Unless he really danced his ass off, but he didn't know if he could... Strike didn't want to wait. "Adios amingos, I gotta go get some practice in..." Strike says, and starts to walk out. "Hey, Strike... You can't practice alone you know!" Shorty says. Shorty runs after Strike. "Oh all right, you can practice with me..."  
  
Strike and Shorty run through the rain. It was nice to be out of it for a little while, but now he was wet again. They got to Strikes apartment, which was a mess might I add, and walked in. "Geez, Strike... Don't you know how to clean up?" Shorty says. All Shorty can see is clothes thrown around the room, with other random things laying around. "Sorry bout the mess, I haven't had time to clean" Strike says, which was a lie. He had all the time in the world, he just didn't care about it.  
  
Strike clears out an area of the floor so they can use it as a dance floor. That alone takes about 10 mins. After that, he throws on some dance music and warms up. "So, you gonna just watch?" Strike says to Shorty who was sitting on his couch. "Hai, I'll watch you for a min or two..." Shorty says. So Strike starts dancing. He keeps a good rhythm with the music, as if he was programmed to dance like that. Shorty just watches. She never intended to practice, she just wanted to bug Strike, but by now, the plans had changed. She thought he danced too good to be bothered.  
  
It was soon dinnertime. Strike wasn't exactly a good cook, but that's why they invented microwave dinners, right? So he put two in the microwave for him and Shorty. "Hey Strike, this year you may have a chance to win... You were good over there" She says. "Heh, I had better win..." He says.  
  
After they eat, Shorty leaves, and Strike is alone again. He takes out a cigarette and starts smoking. He really had to quit that, but it was too hard for him. He thought about the tourney. Psych had been trained by Heat, so maybe the kid could win... Only time would tell, and time was evil. He hoped things this year would be better. The world tour part was what he hated. He didn't like leaving New York. But he got to see new things. Some times meet fans, sign autographs, and all those other things that his life had in it. He felt like some kind of rock star, but his home reminded him that he wasn't really there yet.  
  
Strike walked into his room, put his cig out in the ash tray, and jumped onto his bed to go to sleep. Tomorrow was the first real competitions, the "New York" comp. They had the homeboys all compete, and Strike was one who had to. He would win, like Heat, he usually won that one. Strike fell asleep thinking about the tourney. He dreamed of winning and being crowned the BAG king. He wished he wasn't dreaming. 


End file.
